


Rumpled

by danceswithgary



Series: Screen Savor [7]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Photography, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who could resist joining Rodney in a nap some sleepy afternoon? John certainly can't. Set in the <i>Screen Savor</i> 'verse (sometime after <i>Model Behavior</i>), but may be read as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumpled

**Rumpled**

John's glad he hadn't called out any warning when he walked into Rodney's room. It appears that Rodney had finally tracked down the last of the system glitches that had been plaguing Atlantis for too many days in a row. At least, John assumes that's the case since Rodney's sprawled on his back sideways across his bed, as if he'd meant to watch a movie but then simply collapsed before he could get that far. On top of that, Rodney's laptop is balancing precariously on the end of the bed, while the covers are twisted and hanging off the side, as is Rodney from the knees down, and John knows there'll be innumerable complaints later if he lets Rodney and the laptop stay that way.

Rodney's careless pose, with one hand tucked behind his head, would look provocative minus the rumpled, mismatched boxers and t-shirt, but he looks so peaceful that John hates the thought of waking him. Sleep and the late afternoon light have erased years of stress and worry from Rodney's face; the increasingly deeper lines have smoothed and a faint smile hints at pleasant dreams that John hopes he's starring in. As far as John's concerned, he'd like to believe that there's a flashing neon sign at the entrance of every dreamscape declaring **No Blondes Allowed**, with Madison and Jeannie the only exceptions to the rule. Even if that's not the case, he's confident he's the only x-rated fantasy Rodney wakes up to now.

When Rodney chuckles in his sleep and nestles a little deeper into his stack of pillows, John can no longer resist the temptation to join him. Employing every bit of his stealth training, he strips down to his boxers without making a sound. Clothes and boots end up in an untidy heap by the end of the bed, and then John's holster, gun, and the rescued laptop replace Rodney's camera on the desk. In less than a minute, the camera's back where it was, and John smiles at the thought of the softly lit and so rarely still and quiet Rodney that he just captured.

Resting one knee on the bed, John balances with his arms on either side of Rodney and leans down to whisper, "Hey. You need to move." He brushes a kiss along the rim of Rodney's ear and grins at Rodney's wordless mutter of protest, and then tries again, adding a little nudge in the right direction. "Come on, Mer. Let me in." He doesn't want Rodney to wake up all the way, just enough to shift all the way onto the bed and leave John enough room to curl up with him. He gently encourages Rodney to roll to his side and then eel toward the head of the bed and, although a little frown crinkles Rodney's forehead, his eyes stay closed. "Just a little further. That's it."

With the pillows restacked at the head and Rodney settled on them, thankfully still mostly asleep, John stretches out behind him and then wriggles in close. Tucking his knees behind Rodney's and an arm under Rodney's neck, so that they fit together like precision-cut pieces of a complicated puzzle, John slips his other arm around Rodney so that he can tuck the tips of his fingers under the stretched-out waistband of Rodney's boxers. With a sigh, John lets his lips rest against the knobbly top of Rodney's spine, and then smiles when Rodney pats his hand and murmurs sleepily, "John."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Entry for April 2010 McSmooch. Icon is available to grab, please credit.


End file.
